


Bambino

by sweet_charmie



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Age Regression/De-Aging, BDSM, Daddy Kink, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2019-12-25 19:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_charmie/pseuds/sweet_charmie
Summary: Timothée only got the job because he was young and cute. Armie only took the job because he was in love with the spunky kid from Homeland. There's a different side to Timothée, though; one that excites Armie and scares him, all at the same time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> another new story haha. i'm writing this while i had TERRIBLE writer's block for petite chose, so sorry about the lack of updates for that.  
> disclaimer: this is a dd/lb story. if you don't like that sort of thing, please don't read this. please be respectful of everyone who enjoys that. thanks :)  
> there's also an age gap between timmy and luca (24 years, i think) so if you don't like big age gaps like that either, sorry.  
> also, follow me on insta: @sweet_charmie (it's the same username). i post updates about my fics and stuff, so check it out!!

The littlest things that he did set Timothée off. When he wiped sweat off of his forehead from the steamy Italian summer; when he adjusted his shirt and shorts to better dance in; when he ran out of frame for half a second to chug water down quickly. Timothée was sitting behind the camera, wearing his costume and a hoodie, sipping on a syrupy alcoholic drink with a cigarette in his fingers. Of course, the drinks and cigarettes used in the movie were fake, but Timothée had requested the real things while Armie filmed the dance scene. 

Timothée was immediately infatuated with his co-star. He knew Armie Hammer: the six-five blond Russian man that infamously played twins in a David Fincher film. When he was finally face to face with the giant, he had gulped. He was huge. He seemed bigger, though, because Timothée was sat at the piano and Armie was standing at full height, but it didn’t matter. He loved watching Armie act, seeing him transform into a totally different person for a few minutes. At night, Timothée could hear him going over lines from down the hallway; Timothée and Armie’s apartments were on the same hall, on opposite ends. A few mere yards separated them from constant togetherness, but Timothée wouldn’t have minded. 

Timothée had tried to control his thoughts. It was easy when he was conscious, but, when he was asleep, his thoughts went exactly to where he wished they could eternally stay. He imagined sitting in Armie’s lap, sucking on his thumb and cuddling into his chest. He would hold his blankie and wiggle around until Armie wrapped his arms around him and kissed his baby nose. 

Timothée was as surprised as anyone else when he found out that he liked age regression. He dwelled on the depths of Tumblr frequently, especially during high school, and he came across fanart of a singer dressed in a diaper in the arms of the person they were shipped with. Timothée was interested almost instantly, and he searched around until he found a name for it: daddy dom-little boy. DDLB. He had looked around his bedroom when he found the definition and saw the old toys lined up on a shelf over his bed, the Simba and Nala toys kissing with their magnet mouths, and everything made sense. The trend of coloring books was coming back, and Timothée enjoyed it more than his friends did; he always chose chocolate milk and apple juice over anything else; and he found himself sucking his thumb when he was nervous. He usually passed the thumb-sucking off as biting his nail when he was in public, but the fact that he did it at all spoke volumes. 

Timothée felt a presence behind him, and he turned his head slightly to see Luca. Luca was an older Italian man, wizened and saged in the art of cinema. Timothée looked up to him— not because Luca was taller than him, although he was. Timothée was adamant that he was not short, thank you very much. “Timmy,” Luca began at a whisper; with his accent, the nickname became “Tee-mee”. “Can you encourage _Signor_ Hammer to dance a little better?” 

“How?” Timothée whispered back. 

“Start dancing,” Luca said. “You are gorgeous when you dance, _mio amore_. You make everyone want to dance.” 

Timothée nodded. He was used to this kind of praise from Luca; he was the Antonio to Luca’s Gianni— quiet and unannounced, but everybody still knew. “Alright,” Timothée agreed and pulled at his cigarette, his cheeks hollowing as he smoked the way his father did. “But no laughing.” 

“Never at you,” Luca whispered and gently patted Timothée's shoulder. It was innocuous, but Timothée knew it meant more. It meant he was happy with him, proud of him; a pat of reassurance. 

Timothée stood up and, cigarette and drink in hand, began to bounce slightly, gaining a rhythm to the nonexistent music. His eyes were closed as he danced, and he opened them to see Armie glaring at him. Not a harsh glare, but more a glare of jealousy. He kept eye contact as he took a drink, and he spun around so his curls whipped his cheeks. 

“Luca!” Armie groaned. “I can’t do this!” 

“Yes, you can, Armie!” Luca shouted. “Start the music, start the cameras. We will do this all night until you are having the time of your life.” 

“That’s contradictory, Luca,” Armie mumbled. Nevertheless, the music started back, and Armie began to dance. At least, his version of dancing. Timothée watched with bated breath for Luca to signal to him to stop dancing, but Luca looked over at him and smiled. 

“Why can’t you dance like _bambino_?” Luca asked and gestured to Timothée. “He is having a good time.” 

“Because—!” Armie huffed. “I’m not nineteen, Luca! My knees hurt!” 

“I’m twenty, but thanks!” Timothée called and took a drink. 

“Boys, please!” Luca gasped. “Armie, it is four in the morning. Please, just dance. Dance for Elio.” 

Armie looked at Timothée with an unidentifiable look in his ocean eyes, but heat flashed through Timothée’s guts all the same. He was entranced by Armie’s wide blue eyes. He wanted him badly. He was sure that Luca would be okay with him being with Armie, but he didn't want to risk ruining a good thing. He had something special with Luca— that’s how he got the role of Elio, in the first place. Luca needed a young European boy, and he just had to look to the other side of his bed and he had found the perfect Elio. 

The music started a few seconds, then faded out, and Luca called, “Action!” Armie began to dance, acting more carefree and drunk. He ran his fingers through his hair as he danced, then turned to Victoire— Chiara— and took her hands and danced with her. The absence of the music let the squeaking of his sneakers on the stones squeal out, and Timothée slowly stopped dancing. Armie was smiling now, his anxiety forgotten, and Timothée smiled at it. Not necessarily at Armie’s smile, but at the fact that the night was finally over. 

“Good job!” Luca exclaimed. “Let’s go sleep now.” 

The crew moved quickly to pack up, and Timothée moved closer to Luca. “How are you today?” Timothée asked. 

“Very tired, _bambino_ ,” Luca said. “I feel every ounce of exhaustion in my old bones.” 

“Not that old, _mon chér_ ,” Timothée said. “Just right for me.” 

Luca smiled and kissed Timothée’s plump cheek. “Go get in bed, love,” he said softly. “I will join you soon.” 

“Don’t take too long,” Timothee smiled. “I missed you something terrible in bed last night.” 

“Italian nights too cold for you?” Luca chuckled. 

“No,” Timothée said. “I just missed you.” 

Luca carefully took the drink from Timothée and removed the cigarette, and he gave him a gentle, slow kiss on his warm mouth. Timothée grinned and kissed back, his fingers looping through Luca’s belt. “Go get ready for bed,” Luca whispered. “Take a hot bath, maybe. You never sleep, _mio amante_ , I just want you to sleep well.” 

Timothée jokingly pouted. “Fine,” he sighed, and he kissed Luca once more. The man always tasted like wintergreen gum and cigars, and Timothée loves the taste. As Timothée turned to leave, he squeaked at a firm smack on his ass, and he heard Luca breath out a chuckle. 

Timothée fumbled with his keys at the apartment building, trying to get the right one in the lock in the darkness. Luca always left him jittery and feeling like a true teenager, and he loved the feeling. He giggled despite himself, and he dropped his key ring. 

“Need help there, tiny dancer?” Armie’s voice called, and he emerged from the shadows like a demon. “Or are you just drunk?” 

“Happy,” Timothée hummed. 

“About what?” Armie chuckled. “That little smack Luca gave you?” 

“Among other things,” Timothée giggled. “I can finally sleep now, no thanks to you, Mister Bashful.” 

“Hey, that was hard,” Armie smiled. “You were only doing it because you were drunk.” 

All of their conversations felt like this. Firm and stilted. When Oliver and Elio spoke, it was like poetry, but when Armie and Timothée spoke, it was like there was a language barrier. Timothée gave Armie a tight smile and shoved the door open, and he said, “‘Night, Hammer. See you tomorrow.” 

“Wait, Tim,” Armie said quickly and stuck his foot in the doorway. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” 

“Yeah?” Timothée asked. 

“Umm, you know what we’re filming in a few days,” Armie began. “And I just wanted to see if you were up to… I dunno, hanging out and getting to know each other.” 

“Doing what?” Timothée asked. “Playing video games and drinking beer and talking about our conquests that led us to being the lovers we are now?” 

“I get it, you’re not that kind of guy,” Armie laughed good-naturedly. “But I think Luca would like us to talk about it, ya know. Maybe block it out on set or something. He likes us to be intimate, ya know.” 

“Well, yeah,” Timothée scoffed. “Luca likes to see me…” He quickly cleared his throat, then said. “Never mind. But that sounds like a great idea. I’ll have to see how everything turns out. I have my scenes with Esther and Michael, and, ya know, busy times. But that would be nice.” 

Armie nodded for a few silent seconds, and he said, “So… You and ole’ Guadagnino, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Timothée said and blushed. “We met a few years ago, when _Call Me_ was still being fleshed out. I, uh, met André Aciman at an NYU speech thing for their English department, and he gave me Luca’s number, since he was the director and all, and Luca just… He’s… Yeah. He’s sweet.” 

“Seems like he really loves you,” Armie said. “But that’s… A twenty-four year age gap? Is this a fling? Because…” 

“Well,” Timothée shrugged. “I mean, it’s been almost four years, and we’ve talked about, like, getting married or something before, but we’re busy as fuck. He won’t get to rest for a few years, and I’ve already signed on to do two other movies after this, so it’ll be at least one more year for me to calm down enough to even consider that. But you’re married to an actress, you know how that goes.” 

Armie nodded slowly. “Yep, my Liz is always busy,” he said. “Less so now that Hops is big enough to walk and reign terror over the house, and… And she’s pregnant again and that’s a whole layer of shit. But we've been lucky; I’m such a shitty actor, I barely get cast for anything.” 

“Nah, not shitty,” Timothée said. “Just selective. You choose good roles, and those don’t come around very often.” 

“Are you sure you’re twenty?” Armie chuckled. “You sound forty.” 

“Thanks,” Timothée giggled. He peeked over Armie’s shoulder, and his entire face lit up, his pink mouth falling open and his doe eyes widening. “Luca! _Mon amour_!” 

He rushed towards the older man and captured him in a tight hug, and Luca laughed heartily as he pulled Timothée close into his body. “Hello, handsome,” Luca smiled, and he laughed louder as Timothée clung to him and wrapped his legs around his waist. “Ah, the risks of having a young lover, eh, Hammer?” 

“Yep,” Armie said firmly. He watched as Timothée began to kiss at Luca’s neck, giggling drunkenly, and he shifted uncomfortably. Even though the entire premise of the film was intimacy, watching Luca hold Timothée like that, his firm hands supporting his plush ass and kiss his curls, was hard to endure. There was an odd heat in Armie’s stomach as he watched the frankly cute exchange, and he sucked the inside of his cheek. “Well, I’ll be seeing you guys tomorrow.” 

“Goodnight, Hammer,” Luca smiled, and he helped Timothée back down to the ground. 

“‘Night, Armie!” Timothée giggled, and he smiled up at Luca. “Can’t wait to suck your dick!” 

“Timmy,” Luca gently chastised his lover, and Armie laughed softly. 

“Sleep it off, Timmy,” Armie said. “Take care of the lightweight, Luca.” 

Luca watched as Armie left the doorway, and he kept a wary eye on him as he passed by on the way to his own apartment. “Why was Hammer here?” He asked. 

“Jus’ wanted to talk,” Timothée hummed. “He’s my friend, Luc.” 

“Okay, _bambino_ ,” Luca said softly. “I’m just making sure he's not trying to hurt you. Or take you away from me.” 

Timothée hummed in satisfaction. “ _Trés jalouse, non_?” He giggled. 

“Very jealous, love,” Luca said. “Now, do you realize just how sweet you look in my sweatshirt? And your tight jeans?” 

“No,” Timothée smiled smugly. “How sweet do I look?” 

Luca gently pushed Timothée against the brick wall of the building, and carefully nudged his knee in between Timothée’s thin thighs. “Sweet enough to eat, _mio amore_ ,” he whispered. 

“Really?” Timothée smiled. “Wanna go upstairs?” 

“Or…” Luca started softly. “It’s quiet here. Dark here, too. We could blame the hot Italian night, the alcohol… Anything you want. Anything, Tee-mee, and you can have it.” 

Timothée lifted his eyes to Luca's soft brown eyes and softly bit his bottom lip. “Anything?” He squeaked. His heart was racing at the prospect of coming clean, and he swallowed thickly. 

“Anything,” Luca smiled gently. 

Timothée's breath had escaped his chest and all of his bravery was gone. What would Luca say? He would be disgusted, he knew it. He would dump him. “Umm… We need to have a talk,” he whispered. “About something big. Like… It’s _big_. You’ll probably dump me…” 

“I wanted to talk to you too, _bambino_ ,” Luca said softly. “Timothée, my sweetheart. I have seen you mature into a gorgeous man, and I love you to no end. You are intelligent and beautiful and so incredibly sensual. I want you for the rest of my life, which, honestly, will not be that much longer— Timothée, I’ve wanted to ask you to marry me for years, but no time ever seemed right. But I told you that I would give you anything, and I plan to uphold that.” 

Timothée’s breath caught. This was everything he had ever wanted, somebody professing their love and proposing to him, the warm Italian night and the moonlight, and he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he wanted to throw up. Maybe he was too drunk. He pushed Luca away from him and crouched into a patch of grass, and he choked on his spit. His heart was going to jump out of his throat. Luca proposed. “Luca…” he coughed. “I-I—”

“I understand that I surprised you with this,” Luca said and stroked Timothée’s back comfortingly. “You don't have to give me an answer tonight. Just get back to me soon, yes?” 

Timothée nodded quickly and wiped his mouth. No vomit came, but he still felt sick to his stomach. “Luca, I really…” He sighed. “I really need to tell you something…”


	2. Chapter 2

Armie heard it the moment the door to the building opened: loud, harsh sobs that got caught deep in their throat. Timothée was crying loudly. What had happened in the twenty minutes between when he saw Timothée and then? He sat up in the bed and listened for Timothée’s rapid footsteps across the hall, and he heard the door to Timothée’s apartment slam. 

He knew that something had happened with Luca. Had they broken up? It didn't seem possible. Had Luca said something to a young, drunk Timothée that had upset him? Armie felt protective over the poor boy, ever since the first day they met. His dark hair and smooth skin and bright green eyes entranced Armie immediately, but it was only a fantasy. He had Elizabeth and Harper and baby Fordie on the way. He couldn't afford to have an affair. His agent said that _Call Me By Your Name_ would restart his career, and he couldn’t fuck that up. 

Still, maybe it was the father instinct in him that forced him to leave bed and carefully pad out to the hallway and to Timothée’s apartment. He hesitated before knocking, and he heard Timothée sobbing distantly. It would be wrong to hear his friend in such distress and not at least ask if he was okay. “Tim?” Armie called and knocked on the door. “Is everything alright?” 

There was a pathetic sniffle, and Timothée whimpered, “Go away.” 

“Tim, please,” Armie sighed. “Did Luca say something?” 

That was absolutely the wrong thing to say, because this started a whole new bought of sobs. “Okay, okay, we won’t talk about him,” Armie said quickly. “Can I come in? I-I have really big shoulders, I think you could put your head on one and cry.” 

“Go away!” Timothée whined. “Pwease!” 

‘Pwease’? A slurred l? He sounded like Harper. “Timothée,” Armie sighed. “Let me in. I’ll take care of you, just let me in.” 

There was silence, and then the door peeked open. The chain lock kept it from opening too far, but it was enough to see Timmy’s bright red nose and watery eyes. “Wha’?” He mumbled. 

“What’s wrong?” Armie asked. “You just run in here, crying? What happened?” 

“Go away, Awmie,” Timmy sniffled. “Pwease.” 

“Why are you talking like that?” Armie asked. “You sound like a baby.” 

Timmy whined. “Don’ make fun of me,” he mumbled with a mighty pout. 

Armie instantly knew. He had read about this sort of thing online and seen some things on Twitter, and he sincerely hoped that Timmy was a baby. He had always wanted to experiment with things like that, but he knew that Liz would have never agreed to try that, especially with Harper around. “I’m not making fun of you, tiny,” Armie said gently. “I was just checking. You’re a really little guy, huh? How old are you?” 

“Tree,” Timmy mumbled. 

“You’re three?” Armie said. “Such a big boy. Will you let me in? I can put you in a diaper and give you a bottle?” 

“A diapey?” Timmy whimpered and sniffled. 

“Yeah,” Armie nodded quickly. “But only if you tell me why you’re crying.” 

Timmy lowered his eyes, then shut the door and unlatched the lock, and he opened the door further. Armie immediately rushed in and closed the door behind him, and he examined the room. It seemed normal, neat and tidy, except for the corner where the television stood. A baby playmat was set out with a few stuffed toys lined up neatly, the toys facing the television as if watching it. The bed was unmade and a blue plastic pacifier was sitting on the pillow, along with a green and purple bunny rabbit. Timmy crawled back into bed and clutched the rabbit to his chest, and his eyes followed Armie as he carefully sat on the corner of the bed. “Why’re you crying?” Armie asked. 

“‘Cause…” Timmy sniffled. “Wuca…” 

“Did he say something?” Armie asked, and Timmy shook his head. “What happened, tiny?” 

“He pwoposed,” Timmy mumbled and buried his face in his bunny’s head. “A-An’ I towd him I was a baby a-and he…. It was scawy, Awmie.” 

“Yeah, I bet that’s really scary,” Armie said softly. Luca has asked Timmy to marry him. Timmy exposed this private part of himself to his lover and was rejected. Armie knew exactly what that felt like. In the past, before the days of Elizabeth, he slept around and tried different things with different people. Men, women, whoever was willing. Sometimes he would get rejected and that sucked, but he always found someone else. In Los Angeles’s seedy underbelly, it wasn’t hard to find a willing sub. He had tried those things with Elizabeth, but she never wanted to go as far as he did. 

But DDLB was a whole other beast. Not only did it entail finding a dom, but finding a good dom. Armie had come in contact with some daddies that were no good and only into it because they were closet pedophiles and that justified their grossness. Armie wasn’t like that. He loved having a little because of how dependent they became. He didn't care if he was called Daddy or not. It was the bond that was formed that made the decision for Armie. “Umm… When I was younger, probably as old as you, people at school knew me as this really quiet kid. I was bullied a lot, so I just kept my mouth shut. But I graduated and, that summer, I had this whole experience. It led me to being more comfortable with who I am and what I like, and… What I’m trying to say is, some people don’t get that experience. Some people don’t get exposed to that and, when actually faced with it, aren't comfortable with it. I’m sure that’s what happened with Luca. He’s older, ya know, and probably doesn’t understand all of this.” 

Timmy sniffled. “I jus’ wanted to have a daddy,” he mumbled. 

“I know, tiny,” Armie whispered. “I understand. Have you ever had a daddy before?” 

“No,” Timmy mumbled and shoved his thumb in his mouth. 

“Alright,” Armie whispered. “Lay down, and I’ll get you a diapey. You want your paci?” 

Timmy nodded quietly, and Armie passed him the toy. Armie had never been thought of how Timmy would look with a pacifier in his mouth— he had considered how the young man would look with something else in his mouth— and he was overwhelmed with the glossy eyes and blue little button of the pacifier and the curls. He was the perfect little baby. “Hey, Timmy,” Armie began as he extracted a diaper from a pack that peeked out of the bathroom. “What do you say to making a deal? We have… Three more weeks of filming?” Timmy clambered onto his back and pulled his shirt up to expose his tiny waist. “If you plan on being little like this more often, you need a daddy. Yeah?” 

Timmy nodded and sucked hard on his pacifier. 

“How about…” Armie began and carefully pulled off Timmy’s jeans to expose his wrinkled briefs. Armie had seen Timmy naked before— he was behind the camera when they filmed his nude scene where the camera saw his pale, peachy ass— but that was required. This was recreational. Would Timmy live up to his personality and be tiny? Armie couldn't imagine such a scrawny kid being too terribly hung. “I be your daddy? Until you go home and find someone better?” 

Timmy clutched his bunny close and lowered his eyes. Armie gently placed his hand on his bare side to try to urge him to respond, and all he earned was a squeak and a bright flush of red in the little’s cheeks. “G—” he began, his voice muffled by his pacifier. “Gotta go potty.” 

Armie nodded quietly. He knew that Timmy wouldn't give him an immediate answer, and he was okay with acting the part. He picked Timmy up with ease, setting him on his hip, and he carried him into the bathroom. It was all cold tile with the window open, and Armie leaned against the wall as he watched tiny Timmy mess with his briefs. “Daddy?” Timmy mumbled. 

“Need help?” Armie asked. “Let me help you, peachy.” He moved closer to Timmy and started to remove his briefs, then carefully edged to a stop. Timmy had called him Daddy. Was it an instinct or a confirmation? Whatever the reason, Armie shrugged it off and helped the little use the bathroom, making sure that Timmy washed his hands well before going back to the bed. “Alright, you still want a diaper?” 

Timmy shook his head and sniffled. Armie knew that he was still very upset and that a few mere moments of affection weren’t enough to fix that, and Armie said, “How about we sleep naked? It’s kinda hot here at night anyway, huh?” 

Timmy fumbled with his shirt before finally pulling it over his head, and he shook out his curls once the shirt had passed his head. He rolled into his back and looked up at Armie with those doe eyes, and Armie took great care to pull off his briefs. Naked Timothée was a sight to be seen, but naked Timmy was something else; where Timothée was sexy and irresistible, Timmy was cute and soft. Armie wanted to fuck Timothée, but he wanted to cuddle Timmy. Armie placed a soft kiss on Timmy’s belly, and he helped the little under the covers of the bed. “So?” Armie asked. “What d'ya think?” 

Timmy pulled the cotton blanket up to his nose, and he shrugged. “Otay,” he mumbled softly. “‘Ou Daddy and I’m Baby.” 

“Yeah,” Armie nodded. “I’m Daddy and you’re Baby. Now, can Baby tell me what happened with Luca?” 

Timmy sniffled and reached a small hand out from under the covers and grasped Armie’s shirt tail. “Wuca…” Timmy began. “He was weawwy scawy. I towd him and he-he said that he didn’t… He didn't wanna be my daddy.” 

Armie nodded slowly. “Are you still together?” He asked. 

“I dunno,” Timmy mumbled. 

Armie nodded slowly. “I’ll talk to him for you, if you'd like,” he offered. 

Timmy yawned behind his pacifier and pressed his cheek hard into his pillow. “Cuddwe?” He mumbled. 

“Sure,” Armie agreed, and he carefully laid down next to Timmy. He put an arm around the little and held him tightly, and Timmy squeaked and turned to press his forehead into Armie’s chest. 

“Ni-Night, Daddy,” Timmy mumbled. 

“Goodnight, tiny,” Armie whispered. “I’ll be right here if you need me, okay?” 

“Otay,” Timmy said and yawned wide. Armie’s heart melted at the little guy, and he waited until Timmy was fast asleep before he even dared to move. Timmy had been working so hard on the movie; he deserved a nice night of sleep. 

And now, Luca. 

Armie wormed himself out of Timmy’s surprisingly strong grip and toed on his shoes and grabbed his keys. Luca’s house was close to the apartments, and Armie knew that he spent most nights awake, smoking, and reading James Ivory’s script to see where they could smush in some improv for the next day. It was rather late— or early, around five-thirty in the morning— by the time Armie was knocking on Luca's front door, and he was greeted with the older man in a pair of wrinkled linen pajamas, a thin cigar in his mouth. “Ah, Armie!” Luca exclaimed. “How are you?” 

Anger overtook him. He had upset Timmy, his sweet baby Timmy. His fists clenched by his sides, and he sighed. “Hey,” He said, swallowing back his venom. “Can I come in?” 

“Of course,” Luca said, and ushered him into the apartment. “Is something the matter?” 

“Yeah,” Armie said and rucked up the hair on the back of his head. “Timmy, he… Whatever you said to him, it really upset him. Like… He’s just not in a good place right now. And he didn’t want to come down to talk to you, so here I am.” 

“Oh, dear,” Luca said softly. “I never meant to upset my _bambino_. I told him that I wasn’t sure that I knew how to care for him when he was regressed, but he was already so upset, he had to have misheard me. Armie, please, let him know that I still love him and want to marry him? I’ve loved him for years, and I can’t imagine not having him.” 

“Yeah,” Armie said shortly. “Yeah, I’ll tell him. He’s just really upset. Like, he was crying and everything… He regressed way back. He has the mindset of a three year old right now, and it’s just a difficult thing for him.” 

“Oh, goodness,” Luca mumbled. “My little baby… Tell him to come see me when he’s feeling better, yes? I can’t…” He chuckled lightly, and he said, “I truly cannot stand his silence.” 

“I’ll tell him,” Armie said. Luca was just an old man in love. He wasn’t hurtful or mean. He was just scared. “You asked Timmy to marry you, huh?” 

“I did,” Luca nodded. “I have never done that before, and it was terrible. But I felt better once it was out. What was it like when you proposed to Elizabeth?” 

Armie squared his jaw. Which time? He wanted to ask. He had asked Elizabeth to marry him no less than three times in two years, always receiving a “Not yet” or “Not right now”. Then, Armie was cast in a David Fincher movie, _The Social Network_. He asked her again once the movie was released to critical acclaim and headlines of “Armie Hammer: We Wish There Really Were Two Of Him!”, and she agreed finally. They were married quickly after that; according to Elizabeth’s mother, Liz had been planning her wedding since she was a little girl. On the night of Armie’s bachelor party, his best friend Tyler had pulled him aside and told him that Liz was using him for his fame and money and, once that all ran out, she would leave; Armie was drunk and full of admiration for his fiancée, so he pushed Tyler off and told him to have more to drink. 

“I was so nervous,” Armie chuckled finally. “My dad told me that the longest three seconds in any man’s life are the three seconds after you proposed and before they answer. I was sweating and couldn’t really speak… She’s all I've ever wanted and I couldn’t imagine a life or a world without her.” 

Armie always felt like he was doing his job when describing Elizabeth. He had to put on the face of Armie Hammer, loving husband and father. He loved Harper more than anything in the world and his heart was overflowing with love for his baby boy, but Elizabeth always left a sour taste in his mouth. He had to gush about Liz and how amazing she was, even if she was out partying more often than she was home. 

Luca smiled at Armie’s response. “How queer,” he smiled. “You really love her, I can tell.” 

Armie was apparently a better actor than he had thought he was.


	3. Chapter 3

Luca called cut, and Timothée let out a heavy breath. Even though the camera wasn’t showing his whole body, the thought that his poor old grandmother would see him fucking a peach brought an embarrassed flush to his face. Luca approached the dusty mattress that Timothée was laid across, and he kneeled down next to him. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Luca whispered and smoothed his palm across Timothée’s warm cheek. “Are you feeling okay?” 

Timothée nodded slowly. “Just a bit…” he mumbled. “Like… I feel a little violated.” 

“Well, _bambino_ ,” Luca began. “This film is intimate, and, sometimes, intimacy is violating. You remember our first time, yes? That was violating to you, but it was intimate. Do you understand?” 

“Yeah,” Timothée mumbled. “Umm…” His eyes drifted over Luca’s shoulder to Armie standing on the back wall, wearing his obscenely short yellow swim trunks and a gray t-shirt that was to be shed almost as soon as Armie walked into the shot. He didn’t really seem to be paying attention to Timothée and his own obscene act, tapping at his phone and pulling at a thin cigarette. The little baby gremlin inside Timothée tugged at him, and it growled, _Daddy’s not paying attention to me._

Timothée grunted indignantly. “Got it,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready, Luc.” 

Luca stood up and went back to behind the camera, and he examined Timothée through the camera lens for a few moments. “Tilt your chin up more,” he said. “Lighting’s better on your face there.” 

Timothée jutted his chin out, and his hand fell into a loose fist. Armie was going to pay attention to him, if it were the last thing Timmy did. 

His moans were quiet as the camera rolled, and he pantomimed the masturbation. The squelching of the peach would be added in post-production, so Timmy only had to focus on his facials. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a soft sigh, and he looked down at his body and grunted out his one line: “Fuck.” 

The crew was quiet as Timmy finished the scene, grabbing a blanket and imitating cleaning himself up. He discarded his “soiled” swim trunks and rolled onto his side, and Luca called cut quickly. The crew became lively again, moving around and getting the camera to the new angle for the next shot, and Luca kneeled next to Timmy again. “Good job, _bambino_ ,” he whispered and kissed his forehead. 

“Wan’ my ring,” Timmy mumbled softly. 

Luca nodded and extracted the golden ring from his pocket, where he kept it for safekeeping while Timmy was on camera. 

Armie saw the exchange out of the corner of his eye. Luca kissed Timmy’s cheek as he slipped the engagement ring back on his finger, and Timmy smiled. It broke Armie’s heart when Timmy showed up to set the day after his breakdown with the ring on his finger, and nobody had to ask any questions; they knew Luca had proposed. Armie and Timmy hadn’t had a real conversation about their arrangement, but Armie assumed that it was over, because Timmy hadn’t called for him for a new diaper or a bottle or anything of the sort. Armie thought that his curiosity about DDLB would be sated with the experience, but it made it worse. He wanted a little now, very badly. He wanted Timmy, with his flushed cheeks and springy curls and sweaty skin. 

He finished his cigarette and crushed the smoking butt under the heel of his espadrille, and he got onto his mark at the doorway. They had a few shots for Armie before Timmy entered the frame, and Timmy shifted to have his head on Luca’s chest as he waited. Armie could tell that Timmy was in full little mode, and he knew how desperately Timmy wanted his pacifier. He knew that Timmy loved Luca, but he also knew that he could love Timmy better than Luca ever could. 

They got a few shots of Armie walking down the dusty hallway, and Luca finally took Timmy’s ring and put it in his pocket again. Timmy’s back was to the camera, and Armie entered the shot when Kuca called action. He stopped and watched a “sleeping” Elio for a few moments, then tugged his shirt off by the neck and balled it up and tossed it to the side. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and gently pulled the blanket from around Timmy’s waist, and he bit back his tongue to keep from smiling. Timmy was so gorgeous. Armie was so whipped. He leaned forward and wrapped his lips around Timmy's soft cock, and he could practically feel Luca’s angry gaze boring into his head. It was in the script that Oliver did this to Elio, but nobody had expected Armie to actually suck Timmy off. Armie himself hadn’t even expected it. 

Timmy gave a soft grunt and turned sleepily to face Armie, and he pulled off of him and kissed his lips. Timmy melted under him and opened his warm mouth, and Armie kissed him deeply. It felt different than kissing Liz— Timmy’s lips weren’t as plush as hers, and he tasted different than her, and he smelled sweeter than she did— and, while it didn’t feel wrong, it certainly did not feel right. He was married, Timothée was engaged; he had no right to be enjoying kissing this boy as much as he was. 

“Cut!” Luca yelled sharply. Armie heard a small whimper that got caught halfway up Timmy’s throat when their lips parted, and he looked to Luca. “That’s not right. Armie, do you even want to kiss him?” 

Armie was taken aback. Was he not doing enough? How? “Umm…” Armie began. He couldn’t answer the question safely. “Oliver definitely wants to kiss Elio.” 

“Oliver and Elio have not seen each other since the night they made love,” Luca sighed. “Both of you are desperate for even something as small as a kiss. Timothée, kiss him like your life depends on it, like… Like you will die if his lips are not on yours. Armie… Touch him more. Feel his skin, hold him. Oliver and Elio are hopelessly in love and they finally get a moment alone together; act like that.” 

Armie nodded. Good direction. 

“Begin where Elio wakes up,” Luca said, and Armie lowered his face back to Timmy’s waist. Luca whispered his action, and Timmy grunted again as he awoke once more. Armie looked up at Timmy’s face and his mouth opened slightly as he saw Timmy’s sleepy face. He was quick to kiss Timmy's mouth, his hands going to Timmy’s waist and pulling him close. Timmy’s hands went to his unshaven jaw and gently tugged at Armie’s sprouting beard, then his fingers smoothed up his face and into his hair. Timmy moaned softly, breathlessly, and Armie licked up into his mouth. The two lovers laid there, embracing and kissing for long enough to make Armie nervous. When was Luca going to call cut? Just as he broke the kiss to take a breath, Luca let out a soft grunt. “Good job, gentlemen,” he said. “Take a break. Armie, a word?” 

Shit. Arms stood up and retrieved his shirt, and he cast a glance over at Timmy. He was still laid on the bed, panting and his whole body flushed pink. Armie noticed his fists pressing against his belly, and he smiled; tiny baby Timmy was hard. He did that to him. Armie felt pride fill his chest, and he followed Luca out of the house like a lost puppy. 

“That was fantastic,” Luca said. “You were so deep in your part; it’s almost as if you weren’t acting. Were you?” 

It was a trap. This was a fucking trap if Armie had ever seen one. “Well,” he began. “I mean… Umm… Timothée is a very attractive young man, but I know that he’s yours, and I would never try to take him from you or anything like that—” 

“But you were not acting?” Luca clarified. 

“Not entirely,” Armie admitted. 

Luca nodded slowly. “I am going to give you an offer,” he began. “You are allowed to say no, but you are also allowed to say yes; I will not be offended either way. You feel lust towards my fiancé, and I will give you a chance to be with him— but I must be able to be there and make sure you are treating him well.” 

Armie’s throat was dry. “You…” he began. “You, uh, want me— You’re letting me… Fuck Timothée? And you wanna watch?” 

“Yes,” Luca said. “I would not necessarily put it in those terms, but yes.” 

“Holy shit,” Armie chuckled. “Really? Wow. Umm… When would this happen? I mean, soon, right? We only have, like, a week and a half of filming left.” 

“It would be after filming ends,” Luca said. “Liability policies and such, you surely understand.” 

Armie nodded slowly. “How soon after?” He began. “Because I go shoot _On The Basis Of Sex_ a month after this wraps. And Timmy has a lot going on too.” 

“We would have to figure out a night that works for us,” Luca said. “I will talk to Timothée about it, but he will be thrilled that you agreed.” 

“What?” 

“Timothée asked for this,” Luca said. “My bambino is persuasive, and he begged me, and I had to say yes. You know that you can’t say no to his sad eyes.” 

Armie nodded. Timothée asked for it. He asked to fuck Armie. Armie would need a good talk with Timothée before it happened. 

They returned to the house to see Timmy much less red than before, and they resumed filming. The teasing and Armie nearly eating the peach that was covered with nearly-clear gelatin go resemble Elio’s semen, the sobbing and hugging and “I don't want you to go”-ing. Before Armie could stop himself, he pressed a kiss just above Timmy’s ear. Intimacy required violation, Luca had said. And if Armie were to be intimate with the sweet Finn Walden from Homeland, he would have to violate his engagement. 

God. What would Elizabeth say?

_____

“Luca really said that?” Liz laughed. 

“Yeah,” Armie said and pressed his shoulder closer up to his ear. “‘To be intimate is to be violated'. Some stupid horseshit like that.” 

“What have you gotten yourself into?” Liz smiled. 

“I wish I could tell you,” Armie said. There was a moment of silence, then he asked, “How’s Hop?” 

“Sleepy,” Liz said. “Missing her daddy.” 

It was like a punch to his gut. It all came rushing back to him: the sweet eyes, the warm mouth, the way he looked with the pacifier in his mouth. All it took was the single word: Daddy. 

“Well, I miss her too,” Armie said softly. “Barely two weeks left, and I’ll be home. Think you guys can manage that?” 

“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” Liz said. The phone shifted slightly against Armie’s shoulder, and he rushed to catch it. “Tell Timothée I said hi.” 

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Armie said. “It’s kinda late at home, I'll be letting you get some sleep.” 

“Alright, fine,” Liz said. “I’ll see you in my dreams, big guy.” 

“See you in mine, sweetheart,” Armie replied. He hung up the call and slapped his phone onto the table, and his head fell into his awaiting hands. He chickened out. He had called his wife with the explicit purpose of telling her about Luca’s offer, but he ended up telling her about what he thought was solid advice but had to play off as bullshit. 

Armie wanted a divorce, because Tyler ended up being right. The first few years of marriage were great, and then he was cast in _Lone Ranger_. It bombed at the theaters, though, losing the studio nearly millions of dollars, and things became tight. Armie was practically a joke in Hollywood, and Liz didn’t seem to try to clear anything up. She just laughed— “Oh, my husband, well, sometimes some roles just aren’t a good fit”— and kept marching on. They had constant fights about how they “weren’t the same”, and Armie was close to asking for a divorce, and then Liz dropped the bomb that she was pregnant. She had Armie perfectly cornered; he couldn’t leave her, because then the media would see him leaving his pregnant wife. He couldn’t ask her to get an abortion, because then his ultra-Catholic parents would never speak to him again and would cut off any and all resources he had linked to them. He had to stay with her. 

It was torture. The longer that Armie stayed with Liz, the more he was assured that he did not want her anymore. He wouldn't call himself gay or straight or anything like that; he just liked who he liked, regardless of gender, but that made things more difficult. He could barely make a decision about his own personality, and that bothered him. 

Armie stood up and grabbed his apartment keys, and he quickly walked to the other side of the hallway. He needed Baby, even if Baby wasn’t his. 

The door was ajar. Armie was instantly worried, because he knew for a fact that Timmy was inside his apartment, and he fretted about if someone caught him when he was little. Armie carefully pushed into the apartment and quietly shut the door behind him, and his ears finally caught the squeal of the old shower running. 

Armie quietly examined the room, the toys lined up neatly in front of the television, the heap of blankets on the bed, the messy suitcase in the corner. The room smelled like Timmy’s woodsy deodorant and suntan lotion, and Armie decided that he could live in that room for the rest of his life. He knew that Timmy’s skin tasted like suntan lotion, but he wished to experience it for himself and not for the cameras. 

Armie knew that he was being a creep. Timmy could finish his shower and walk out and catch him snooping around his room at any moment, but that didn’t stop Armie from grasping the green and purple bunny on the bed. Timmy’s bunny, the one he clutched as he slept and cried into when he was upset. Armie raised the toy to his face and took a deep breath of it, letting the smell of Timmy fill him completely. He wanted the scent to fill every cavity of his body, to fill him up and leave no room for anybody else, for his scent— and, therefore, part of Timmy— always existed within Armie. Armie suddenly understood why Oliver wanted to eat the peach. 

The shower cut off. Armie’s heart jumped into his throat and he replaced the toy on the bed, and he wiped his sweaty palms on the thighs of his shorts. He had been caught. Jesus Christ, he wanted to curl up into a ball and die. 

Timmy was humming softly from inside the bathroom, and the door cracked open. Steam slowly seeped from the bathroom and into the bedroom, and Armie smelled bright lavender and chamomile. Timmy’s humming became louder, then the swish of fabric, and the door opened further. 

“Oh, fuck!” Timmy cried when he saw Armie’s towering silhouette next to the bed. “Armie! Jesus, you can’t do that shit.” 

So it was Timothée speaking, then. 

“Sorry,” Armie said. “I was going out for a cigarette and… I saw your apartment door open. I just came in to check on you.” 

“I’m fine, thanks,” Timothée said with a smile, and he squeezed the ends of his hair with the corner of the towel he had around his body. It was around his shoulders like a cape, barely long enough to cover his nudity, and Armie’s mouth ran dry. “You just gave me a fright. So, filming was interesting today, huh?” 

“Sure was,” Armie nodded. He watched Timothée cross the room to his suitcase, and he retrieved a pair of boxers and a loose shirt. 

“That was a nice little surprise you gave me,” Timothée said smoothly. “Sucking me off on camera. There’s a story you can tell people.” 

“Yeah,” Armie mumbled. Timothée’s back was to him, and his heart full-on stopped when Timothée dropped his towel to the floor. His boyish body, smooth skin and lithe sinews, glowing in the moonlight. It was too much; he had to have been doing it on purpose. 

“I was thinking…” Timothée began. “You didn't have to do that. I feel like I need to…” He paused and peeked over his shoulder to Armie, his amber eyes glinting impishly. “Repay you.” 

“No need,” Armie chuckled quickly. “No, it was my pleasure, Elio.” 

“Oh, so that’s how we’re doing it,” Timothée smirked. “Alright then, Oliver.” He turned and approached Armie, standing so close to him that Armie could practically taste his shampoo. “I’m young but not stupid,” Timothée said. “I know that you’ve wanted to fuck me since the first day we met. You’ve learned my secret, and have now let my fiancé in on it, so… I have no more secrets. I feel so… Empty. I need a new secret, Armand.” 

“You do, huh?” Armie asked. A strange calm had overtaken him, and he looked over Timothée’s body. “And how do I fit into that?” 

“With a lot of prep,” Timothée breathed. “C’mon, Armie. I know you want to, and, to be frank, I want it too. Fuck me.”


	4. Chapter 4

Armie and Timothée stood chest-to-chest, playing chicken. Who would back away first? Who would give in first? Would Timothée laugh and admit he was joking? Would Armie wake up from this ridiculous dream of a life? 

“Have you ever taken a cock, angel?” Armie asked finally. 

“Yes,” Timothée said easily. “Luca’s.” 

“But he’s not me,” Armie was quick to reply. “Have you ever taken someone as big as me?” 

“I don’t know,” Timothée said. “I haven’t seen your cock before.” 

Armie squared his jaw at the bratty little sub— oh, yes, Timothée was obviously a sub; Armie, with his years of dom work, could tell in an instant— and snatched Timothée's soft hand. “Take off my pants, and you tell me if you can take it,” he said through gritted teeth. He couldn’t stand when his sub was bratty. 

“Okay,” Timothée said. 

“What was that?” Armie asked. 

“Yes, sir,” Timothée purred, and he moved closer to Armie. He deftly unhooked the button of Armie’s shorts and tugged then down his thighs, and he expertly pushed his hand into the elastic waistband of Armie’s boxers. Armie held back a moan when Timothée’s warm hand enveloped his hardening cock and palmed it for a moment, and he grunted when Timothée’s thumb pressed into his slit. 

“I said to look at it,” Armie said. “Not to touch it. Are you gonna follow my directions?” 

Timothée giggled. “Yes, sir,” he said, and he pulled his hand out. He knelt down to the floor so that his face was perfectly level with Armie’s cock, and he pulled his boxers down. Armie was quite proud of his cock, if he was honest about it. He had been told that he easily could have been an adult film actor if that was the path he had chosen, and he delighted in the small gasp that Timothée gave. 

“So?” Armie asked. 

“Yes, sir,” Timothée said and swallowed thickly. “I can take it.” 

“Good,” Armie said. “Get on the bed and open your legs.” 

Timothée’s eyes locked with Armie’s as he stood up, and he asked, “May I have a kiss?” 

Armie had been dreaming about Timothée’s lips since their kiss earlier that day. He took Timothée’s face in his hands and tugged him forward to kiss him with ease. Timothée whimpered behind the kiss, his small hands grasping Armie’s firm biceps, and Armie moved his hands all the way down Timothée’s soft body to his plush ass. He was so perfect. Armie hooked his hands under Timothée’s ass and lifted him up, and Timothée locked his skinny legs around Armie’s waist. Their kiss was bruising, not so much a kiss as much as it was their mouths pressed together as Armie’s tongue tasted Timothée’s small mouth. He would never be able to fit in Timothée’s mouth, not without some good training. Images of Armie training Timothée with his fingers came to his mind, pushing his fingers in until they met the resistance of Timothée’s throat, making him suck his fingers until his gag reflex was gone, and then moving on to long dildos to train his throat. It aroused Armie terribly, and he shoved Timothée up against the nearest wall. Bed be damned; he wanted to fuck Timothée as hard as he could, as dirty as he could manage. Under the current circumstances, against the wall was as dirty as they could get. 

Timothée was panting like a total slut, moaning and squeezing Armie’s hips between his thighs. Armie had never been as turned on as he was then, and he could only see Timothée’s pink mouth. He pulled away to start to kiss Timothée’s neck, but he suddenly stopped himself. Luca. Liz. They couldn’t. 

“Tim,” Armie whispered. “I want this so bad, but we just can’t.” 

“Yes, we can,” Timothée said. “Luca doesn’t need to know. Liz doesn’t need to know.” 

“Fuck,” Armie whispered. “I-I’m not gonna cheat on my kids’ mom. Even though I really… Really want to. I just can’t do that.” 

Timothée huffed. “Well, that’s rude,” he said, and climbed off of Armie quickly. “You work me up like that, then just leave me? Just go.” 

“Tim,” Armie started. “I’m sorry—” 

“What do you want to say?” Timothée asked. “You didn’t want to sleep with me? You don’t want me like that? Because that’s a fucking lie; you know it, and I do too. I see the way you look at me, Armie, and Luca sees it too. I’m not stupid. Just… Ugh, fuck, go away.” 

“Tim,” Armie began again. “Stop. I’m sorry about that, but I just… I’m gonna ask Liz for a divorce. I am, I’m really going to. And you’re right, I do want you, so bad, but I can’t. Not yet. And you and Luca— I can’t break up what you guys have. It’s really special, ya know? You two are made for each other, and I’m not letting a lifetime of happiness be ruined by one mistake. I’m sorry, but I can’t.” 

Timothée nodded and plopped down on the bed. He stared at his body and wrapped one of the cotton blankets around himself and, when he looked up at Armie, his eyes were glossy and his cheeks were red. “I met Luca when I was fifteen,” Timothée said, his voice cracking. “We started dating when I was sixteen; he was forty. I wasn’t even a senior in high school, and I was dating a man who was older than my father. But that never bothered me, because Luca was sweet and kind. All of my friends… They, ya know, they were worried. My parents were worried too, obviously, but they never said anything. But I went to senior prom with this girl I was friends with, Lordes… One of her friends’ dates was Ansel— Ansel Elgort, ya know him— and we were drinking and… We ended up sleeping together. It was… Terrible. It was in an alley behind the school and he didn’t know what he was doing— and, granted, I didn’t either— but Ansel gets to have the award of taking my virginity. I had waited for so long to give that to Luca and… One mistake. I told him and he understood. He didn’t get mad or anything. He told me that I was young and full of passion, and he excused me from cheating on him. I… I kinda tested the waters a bit and saw how far he would let me go. My first year of college, I slept around a lot. I… Fuck. I ended up getting chlamydia.” He chuckled softly and wiped his tears off of his cheeks. “Luca was a perfect boyfriend and helped me take care of it, and he instituted a rule for me that, if I wanted to sleep with other people, that it was fine, but that he had to be present. He calls it ‘protective'; I call it ‘voyeuristic’. But that’s how it’s been for a long time. It’s been so long, I’ve been with Luca for a good portion of my life, but… Holy fuck. I just don’t know if I want to marry him or be with him for the rest of our lives. I’m not sure I ever wanna get married. But I don’t know how to tell him, it would break his heart. So…” Timothée trailed off and bit his tongue sharply, hard enough for him to taste blood. 

Armie nodded slowly. “You thought that, by sleeping with me, he would get angry with you,” he said carefully. “Call off the engagement, break up with you. That’s why you offered to… And, when Luca was okay with that, you… Oh, Christ, Timmy. That’s— No, sweetheart.” He sat down next to Timothée and hugged him tightly, and Timothée gave delicate sobs and buried his head in Armie’s shoulder. “Luca is a reasonable man, I promise. If you tell him about your reservations, he’ll talk them through with you. I’ve known Luca for a long time, and I know that, if you just talk to him—”

“But I don’t wanna talk to him,” Timmy whimpered. “I just want it to be over.” 

“Hey, calm down,” Armie whispered soothingly. “It’s okay, tiny. It’s late, let’s go to bed, and we can talk about this more in the morning. You have the morning free, right?” 

Timmy sniffled. “Filming stuff with Michael and Amira,” he mumbled. “But I’ll be free after lunch.” 

“Good,” Armie said. “After lunch tomorrow, we can have a nice talk and air out all of these feelings, okay? I’m here for you, buddy, anything you need. I’m just down the hall. Got it?” 

Timmy nodded and hugged Armie tighter, pressing as close to him as he could. “I…” He began and gasped. “I can’t imagine not having you here for this sort of thing. I wish you could move back to New York with me and let me cry into your chest.” 

Armie chuckled. “Oh, darling, I know,” he whispered. “Let’s get under the blankies, get all snug like a little bug, and we can go to sleep.” 

“Wha’ kinda bug?” Timmy asked as he slid under the blankets. His hair was still wet and darkened the pillow slightly, and Armie pushed a soaked curl off of his forehead. 

“How about a rollie-pollie?” Armie asked. 

“A wha’?” Timmy asked. 

“Pillbug,” Armie said. “The little fellas that curl into a ball.” 

“Otay,” Timmy said contently. “Ni-Night, Daddy.” 

“Good night, tiny,” Armie whispered and gave Timmy a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Just down the hall if you need anything, okay?” 

Timmy hummed softly and slid his thumb into his mouth. Armie nearly scolded him and told him that it would mess up his perfect little teeth, but he kept it to himself. If the baby wanted to suck his thumb, then the baby would suck his thumb. 

Armie laid in bed and listened to the wind blowing outside his window. A storm was brewing in the warm Italian night. Armie had a faint memory of hurricane season in the Caribbean, about how he convinced his father once to play out in the rain with him, and they chased each other with water guns. Baby Viktor had toddled out in his swimming diaper at some point and latched onto their father, and Armie’s mother joined his side with the garden hose. At the end of it, all four of them were soaking wet and shivering, but Armie’s mom made them soup and hot tea and they watched a VHS of Sleepless in Seattle as the weather wreaked havoc outside. It was probably one of the happiest memories Armie had of his childhood. 

That’s not to say that he had a terrible childhood, because he didn’t. He grew up in a tropical paradise, going to the Catholic school that his father had founded, and attending church twice a week. His mother was surprisingly liberal about certain things and allowed Armie to dye his hair platinum blond when he was thirteen, then aqua blue a few months later, then back to a brassy blond just in time for middle-school-graduation photos. After eighth grade, though, Armie’s father told the family that he had accepted a job in Los Angeles, which meant moving continental. That’s where the troubled childhood part came in. Armie was always a thin kid, not as tall as others, and the stress of the move made him put on a few pounds around his middle. He got made fun of for being chunky and having an accent, then he decided to grow nine inches in one summer. The weight redistributed itself around the new height and that was no longer an issue, but now he was that one really tall kid. People looked at him weird; people still looked at him weird, even though he was twenty-nine and had every right to be almost six and a half feet tall. 

College was when Armie really bloomed. He got cast in several small roles for television as a hunky, blond dude, and women flocked around him. For a twenty-year old, that wasn’t all that bad. It was around that time that he met Elizabeth Chambers, and there was an immediate attraction. They flirted for nearly a year before Armie grew the balls to ask her out, and the rest was (ill-fated) history. It was on their honeymoon in Paris, the first night, that Liz was asleep and Armie was hopelessly flipping through television channels. He needed something in English, because his French was woefully inferior. He stopped at a show that had Claire Danes in it— Armie remembered having a crush on her when she was in _Romeo + Juliet_ — and he decided to watch the show. A boy popped up on screen, all tan skin and short chocolate curls and snarky, sarcastic attitude, and Armie was done for. The character’s name was Finn. Armie waited for the end credits and paused the screen on the credit for Finn Walden: Timothée Chalamet. A quick Google search revealed that this Timothée was eighteen and a student at the revered LaGuardia High School in New York City and had starred as Oscar in Sweet Charity and Emcee in Cabaret; or so the theatre department’s Facebook page claimed. 

Armie was hooked. He kept a casual focus on Timothée for a few years, feeling an out-of-place pride when he saw him in a Christopher Nolan movie. Then, he was in an indie movie with Kiernan Shipka, then another indie with Lily Rabe. The kid was a good actor, much better than Armie could ever hope to be. Luca Guadagnino contacted him about six years before _Call Me By Your Name_ sprouted, and he told Armie to wait for a call about being cast in a movie. Six years passed without a single phone call, then it came: “Read this book,” Luca instructed. “And tell me what you think of Oliver.” 

Armie was cast within the week. He asked who would play Elio, and he choked back a cheer: sweet little Timmy Chalamet, alumni of LaGuardia High School and actor in _Homeland_ and a Christopher Nolan film. It was like the universe was drawing together all of its sacred cosmic energy to allow Armie to meet this boy and get to know him, and he thanked the stars and moon and whoever the fuck else was responsible for it. 

The first day they actually met face-to-face, Armie had made a complete fool of himself. Luca told him that Timothée was in a piano lesson, but he went in to see a petite boy sitting at a grand piano, his curls sticking out every which way. Timmy. Armie had been boisterous and peppy, and Timothée smiled and awkwardly told him that the lesson would be over soon, which Armie took as his cue to leave for the nearby piazzetta and grab a cold drink to try to beat the already-humid Italian day. The glass had beads of cold perspiration on it by the time Timmy walked up to Armie, gangly legs and big smiles. “Hi,” Timmy said sweetly. “I’m Timothée.” 

He said his name with an interesting inflection, Timo-tay. It made Armie smile, and he introduced himself. Timmy sat down at the wire table across from Armie and crossed his legs at the knee, and Armie saw the delicate gold necklace around his neck. “Method acting?” Armie inquired. 

“Oh, no,” Timothée said and pulled the necklace out of his shirt. “It’s my own necklace. Luc found it in my apartment and… Ya know.” 

“Luc?” Armie asked. 

“Luca,” Timothée said. “The director, he’s… We’re close.” 

“Oh, Guadagnino,” Armie nodded. “That’s nice. Luca and I are pretty close too. We’ve known each other for six years.” 

“We’re about four years,” Timothée said. “So, Armie Hammer. The big man in Hollywood.” 

“Nah, I wouldn't say that,” Armie said. “Not since _Lone Ranger_.” 

Timothée shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, my dad loves that movie.” 

It didn't make Armie feel better, but it sure did put a smile on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

There was a knock on the door to Armie’s apartment, and he grunted as it suddenly awoke him. He wiped the drool off of his lips and staggered up, pulling his baggy pajama pants up higher on his hips as he moved to the door. 

A baby stood on the other side, sucking his thumb, his knees wobbling. “Hey, baby,” Armie hummed, and he pulled Timmy into his body. “What’s wrong?” 

“I-I…” Timmy began around his thumb, and he hiccuped. 

“Big boy words, tiny,” Armie said firmly. “What’s wrong?” 

“I wen’ potty,” Timmy mumbled. “Can ‘ou change diapey?” 

“Yeah,” Armie nodded. “Do you have a clean diapey?” 

Timmy nodded and fished a folded-up diaper out of his crossed arms, and he carefully padded into the apartment at Armie’s direction. Armie was quick to lay him down on the bed, and he pulled the adhesive tabs off to remove the diaper. Timmy was red-faced and still hiccuping, and he wouldn’t look at Armie as he fixed the clean diaper on his body. “All clean,” Armie said with a smile. “A nice, clean baby.” 

Timmy drew his legs up and latched them around Armie’s waist, and Armie laughed as Timmy tried to pull himself up onto Armie with only the use of his baby strength; Armie wasn’t confident that Timothée had much upper body strength to begin with, even when he wasn’t a baby. Armie wrapped his arms around Timmy and pulled him up, and Timmy nestled his cheek on Armie’s shoulder. “So silly, tiny,” Armie chuckled. “Such a silly baby boy. You wanna sleep in here with Daddy tonight?” 

“Yeah,” Timmy mumbled. He hiccuped again, and Admie chuckled. 

“What’s with the hiccups, tiny?” Armie asked. He settled Timmy down in the bed and got in next to him, and the little was quick to climb on top of Armie and smash his cheek into his firm chest. 

“Got scawed,” Timmy mumbled. “Scawed you’d— hic!— say no.” 

“Oh, baby,” Armie whispered. “I could never say no to you. Never, ever. Okay? Ya know why?” 

“Why?” Timmy asked.

“‘Cause you’re Baby,” Armie said. “And I’m Daddy. And Daddy needs his baby as much as Baby needs his daddy.” 

Timmy squeaked and burrowed in close to Armie’s body, his toes curling around Armie’s, just as Elio’s did underneath the table. “Don’ wan’ you to go,” Timmy whispered. 

“I’m not going anywhere, tiny,” Armie whispered. “I’m staying right next to you. Forever, I’ll be here for you. Rain or shine, day or night— I'll come cuddle you whenever you need me to. Even if you’re here and I’m on the moon, I’ll take a rocket ship down here to make sure you’re okay. Okay?” 

Timmy whimpered, and Armie tilted his head up to look at him. “I wuv ‘ou, Papa,” Timmy whispered. His jeweled eyes were full of tears, and he was still hiccuping as he cried. 

Armie’s heart cracked. For years, he had been wanting to hear Timothée tell him that, but it hurt him more than anything to hear it. Timothée was engaged to another man; Armie was married and had two kids. It could never work. The Italian affair was nice and exactly what Armie had craved for so very long, but it was not a reality. He could never be with Timothée. “I love you too, mister,” Armie whispered and set a loving kiss to Timmy's sweet curls. Even if it was doomed, Armie would see this out to the very end. Then, he could go on with his life with the pleasant memories of his first real submissive. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. “Now, I think babies need to go to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow.” 

“Otay,” Timmy mumbled and sniffled. “Papa?” 

“Yeah?” Armie asked. 

“Kissy?” 

Armie began to cry. This little boy meant so much to him. His first crush on a guy was Timmy. The first time he ever really felt comfortable being with a guy was Timmy (he had kissed Leo DiCaprio, which is every teenage girl’s wet dream, but that was different). When Armie said that he had never felt like that about anybody before, he meant it. He truly was Oliver, in mind and body and soul. 

“No, Papa!” Timmy whimpered. “No teaws!” 

“I’m sorry, tiny,” Armie whispered. “I just… I really do love you. It’s hard to find the right words, but… Fuck. I wish it was you.” 

Timmy was small and young, but he understood. At least, his big part did. “I wish it was ‘ou too,” he mumbled. 

The two laid there, crying together for what felt like hours. Armie was sure that it was hours. It had to be. He brushed through Timmy’s curls enough times to make them thick and frizzy, and Timmy twisted the small hairs on Armie’s chest around his pinkie finger as he sniffled and let his tears fall on Armie’s skin. “Armie,” Timmy mumbled. His voice was a bit lower, a bit scratchy. Timothée. “Fuck. I hate this.” 

“I do too,” Armie said. “But this is the way it has to be.” 

“Says who?” Timothée asked. “I-I’m twenty, we can get married and nobody has to know.” 

“Woah, Timothée,” Armie said gently. “I understand that you're really emotional right now, but just slow down. I want to do that, honestly, but… I’m still married. I have a baby, and my wife is pregnant. I can’t just run off. That wouldn't be fair to my wife or kids. And Luca’s gone through so much to keep you. It would break his heart. And yours; you’d regret it if we did that.” 

“My heart’s already been broken,” Timothée whispered. “And you're the only person who can fix it. Armie, I— Fuck. I’ve been in love before and I’ve fallen out of love before. I know what fucking emotions I’m feeling, and I… If we could be together, would you want that?” 

“Yes,” Armie said immediately. “But—” 

“Don’t fucking say it,” Timothée spat. “Let’s just live in a world where we can. Until Luca calls cut for the last time, when he calls wrap, that’s when we stop lying to ourselves.” 

“We don’t have to lie,” Armie said. “We just… You’ve talked to Andre about the book, right? About the sequel he’s planning?” 

“No,” Timothée said gently. 

“He told me what happens,” Armie says. “Oliver is given a position in Rome and meets Elio again. It’s a few years down the road and they’re both a bit older, but they have each other. Elio and Oliver end up together. Andre told me, but it was in confidence, so you don’t know. But… I’m having a hard time differentiating myself from Oliver lately.” 

“Elio,” Timothée whispered. 

It was like a siren call. Timothée only had to say the name, and Armie felt the flowers blooming in his chest. Never again would Armie fill his ears with clay; he was Odysseus, and he could not resist the siren’s call. “Oliver.”

_____

“Daddy!” 

A gentle poke came upon Armie’s cheek, and Armie smiled. Tiny was awake and wanted attention. Armie made a loud and fake snore, and Timmy whined. 

“Daddy!” Timmy groaned. “Wake up, Papa!” 

“Huh?” Armie mumbled. 

“Wanna play!” Timmy growled with a giggle. “Wake up!” 

“Just a few more minutes, tiny,” Armie said. “Come cuddle with me.” 

“No!” Timmy huffed. “Not ‘til ‘ou play!” 

“Really?” Armie asked and peeked his eyes open. Timmy sat with his legs folded under him, naked except for his diaper, his hair pushed behind his ears, and a mighty frown on his pink lips. “No cuddles from Baby?” 

“No!” Timmy said, and he giggled. “No cuddwes.” 

Armie hummed softly, and he hooked an arm around Timmy and pulled him in tight. He nestled his growing beard into Timmy’s neck, earning him a squeal, and Timmy laughed. “Daddy, no!” He giggled. “No tickwes!” 

“Oh, I hadn’t even thought of that!” Armie smiled. “I think I will tickle the baby.” 

“No!” Timmy laughed, and he kicked out in glee as Armie began to tickle his tummy. “Papa, no, no!” 

“Cuddle with me, tiny,” Armie grinned, and he watched Timmy squirm under his fingers. “And I’ll stop.” 

“Nuh-uh!” Timmy shrieked. “‘Ou stinky!” 

“I’m stinky?” Armie asked. “I don’t think I am. What makes you say that?” 

“You smeww weird,” Timmy said and laughed breathlessly. “Sweaty.” 

Armie got out of bed and quickly threw Timmy over his shoulder, and the little cried out again as he laughed. “Papa, put me down!” He laughed, and Armie carried him into the bathroom. He set Timmy down on the counter, and he plugged the tub and started a bath. 

“I think you're the stinky one, tiny,” Armie said. “I think babies need a bath.” 

“Wif bubbwes?” Timmy asked meekly. 

“Yeah,” Armie said. Bubbles usually weren’t a part of Armie’s bathtime regimen (baths weren’t really part of that, either), so he poured a bit of his shampoo under the running water and watched as small bubbles formed. Good enough. He tested the water with his hand, deeming it warm enough for the baby, and he crossed to where Timmy still sat. “Diapey off,” Armie said. 

“Diapey off,” Timmy repeated with a giggle. 

Armie pulled off the diaper and tossed it in the wastebasket, and he kissed Timmy's cheek. “Into the bath,” Armie said and picked Timmy up. 

“Into da baf,” Timmy smiled. 

“Are you gonna repeat everything I say?” Armie asked as he lowered Timmy into the warm water. 

“No,” Timmy said. He took a handful of bubbles and mashed them between his palms, and he looked at Armie with his doe eyes. “Hewp, Daddy?” 

“Of course,” Armie said. He wished that he had prepared his own apartment a bit better for a baby, and he retrieved the glass cup that his toothbrush sat in next to the sink. He filled it with the running water, then gently tilted Timmy’s head back. 

Timmy played quietly with the bubbles as Armie washed his hair, his eyes closing blissfully and giving a soft hum. Armie was immersed in his own bliss, finally able to take proper care of someone. Liz did mostly everything with Harper at her own will, then complained that Armie never helped with Hops, but also complained when he tried to help and told him that he wasn't “doing it right”. Armie realized that Liz had practically been villainizing him from the first day they started dating. It was doomed from the start; if only he hadn’t been so blind to the signs. 

“Hey, you,” Armie said as he rinsed conditioner out of Timmy's hair. 

“Me?” Timmy asked meekly. 

“Yeah,” Armie said. “I love you a lot.” 

Timmy giggled. “And I wuv ‘ou, Papa!” 

“No, baby,” Armie said, and he sat on the edge of the tub. “I love you. Not just Baby, but Timothée. And you deserve to be the first to know that I’m going to ask Liz for a divorce.” 

Timothée’s eyes widened. “What?” He said quickly. “Armie, but you— Ford! And—” 

“I know, it’s a big deal,” Armie said. “I’ll have to file for partial custody, and I might not get it, but you truly don’t understand how miserable I am with her. She makes me feel so small and helpless, she never takes my side on anything, she’s the victim in every argument we have… I can’t live like this. People will judge me for leaving her, but my happiness matters more than some tabloid article. It took a long time for me to get to this point, but… When filming wraps, I’m going home and filing for divorce.” 

Timothée sighed heavily. “Fuck, Arms,” he mumbled. “I… Make me a promise, and I'll make you the same. I’ll break up with Luca within the week, and you do the same with Liz. Then, on Saturday night, we’ll be in Rome for filming, and… And we’ll talk. About this. About us. Promise?” 

“Yeah,” Armie nodded. 

Timmy withdrew his hand from the bath and offered his daddy his pinkie finger and he said, “Pinky pwomise?” 

Armie curled his pinky around Timmy’s and locked eyes with him. “I pinky promise,” he said. “And I never break a pinky promise.” 

They finished up with the bath, and Armie wrapped Timmy up in a towel. He carried him out to the den and opened the doors to the balcony, letting the warm Italian morning into the apartment. The air smelled like coffee and rosemary as the town of Crema awoke, and Armie stood in the sunlight for a few moments, letting the warmth soak into his skin. He felt a pair of skinny arms wrap around his neck from behind him, and Timothée placed his chin on Armie’s shoulder. “I never wanna leave Crema,” he whispered. “I never wanna leave this.” 

Armie smiled. “Me neither,” he whispered. “Do you want coffee?” 

“Sure,” Timothée said. “Just black is fine.” 

Armie watched as Timothée got dressed while the coffee brewed. He disappeared from the apartment for a few moments and came back with a heap of clothes in his arms, and he began to get dressed. T-shirt, denim shorts, red hoodie pulled over his damp hair. From his shorts, he pulled out a carton of French cigarettes and a petite silver lighter, and he crossed to the open balcony and lit a cigarette. “Didn’t know you smoked,” Armie said as he watched the coffee brew carefully.

“I’m French, Armie,” Timothée said. “Of course, I smoke.” 

“I used to smoke,” Armie said. “Liz made me quit. I was trying to convince her to let me buy a vape, which is sad, because I’m thirty and shouldn't have to convince anyone to let me buy anything, but… Can I have one?”

“Sure,” Timothée said. “You gotta come here and get it, though. And pay the price.” 

“Really?” Armie mused. He approached Timothée and wrapped his arms around his skinny waist, drawing him in close, and he asked, “What’s the price?” 

Timothée tilted his head back and smiled gently, and he said, “A kiss. A real one. Not some stupid baby kiss.” 

Armie smiled. He obliged, not because of his desire for a cigarette, but rather of his desire to taste the smoke in Timothée’s mouth. He kissed him softly, purely for the enjoyment of it. Kissing was such a trivial thing. It’s a momentous occasion when someone has their first kiss, but, past that, it’s barely worth mentioning. Armie remembered his first kiss, when he was eight and in the schoolyard. He wondered who Timothée’s first kiss was. Was it Luca? 

Timothée kissed back, molding and melting completely into Armie’s firm body. Total submission. It was blissful. Armie cupped Timothée’s jaw in his palm and tilted his head up to kiss him better, and Timothée pulled his lips away. They lingered, though, barely an inch apart. If he wanted to, Armie could kiss him once more, but he stayed away. “I love you,” Timothée whispered. “My Oliver. I adore you.” 

Armie just had to kiss Timothée again. “Tonight,” Armie whispered against Timothée’s mouth. “I’ll break up with Liz tonight.” 

Timothée moaned softly, and he said, “I’ll do the same with Luca.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus from this story, but have this chapter while I continue to work on it. :)

Luca closed the apartment door, already digging in his pocket for a cigarette. He smelled Timothée's shampoo faintly in his apartment, and he smiled when he realized that his bambino was home. He had been spending the nights at his own apartment, and Luca had missed his little body in bed. 

Timothée was laying on the bed, lazily flipping through an old book that resided in some forgotten corner of Luca’s apartment. He wore an old shirt of Luca’s, its age showing in the faded marks at the collar, and his hair was curling around his ears. “There you are,” Luca mused. “I’ve missed you, bambino.” 

Timothée nodded dully. He spun the ring on his finger, and he finally looked up at Luca. One conversation. Luca would understand. Luca would understand. “I need to talk to you,” Timothée whispered. 

“Of course,” Luca said. He sat down next to Timothée instantly, and he watched his fiancé's face turn from boredom to anxiety. Something big was on Timothée’s mind; Luca had known him long enough to be sure of that. “Is something wrong?” 

“Luc…” Timothée began. “I… I love you a lot. A lot. It’s hard for me to find the right words because of how much I love you, and… Fuck. I love you, but I also love someone else.” 

“One’s heart can be big enough for more than one,” Luca said. He took Timothée’s cheek in his hand and grazed his thumb across his smooth cheek. “Who is it?” 

“Oh, I…” Timothée whispered. “I couldn’t tell you. I… It would break your heart.” 

“Please, bambino,” Luca said gently. “I will not be angry. Unless it is Signor Ivory, then we will need a chat.” 

Timothée sniffled. “It’s Armie,” he whispered. “I love him. And maybe it’s the atmosphere that we’re in and I only think that I’m in love with him because I’m in Elio’s mindset, but—”

Luca cut him off with a soft kiss, and Timothée kissed back instinctively. Luca was safe. Luca was security. Luca was not a married father. He had Luca all to himself. Timothée broke the kiss and looked hard at Luca, trying to find any modicum of doubt or hatred in his gorgeous eyes, but all he saw was love. “I love you, Timothée,” Luca said softly. “And I don’t care if your heart belongs to another man, or if your body belongs to another. Right now, you are mine, and that is what I care about, is right now. Time means nothing, really, but I would spend eternity with you. All of the time that is left in this universe, I want to spend in your heart. Will you let me do that?” 

“You really wanna marry me, even after I told you that I love someone else?” Timothée asked. “Aren’t you afraid that I might leave you?” 

“No,” Luca said. “Because I know you. I know that you know that there is a difference between love and lust and, even if you don’t see it now, you’ll come to understand that you don't love Armie; you lust for him.” 

Timothée nodded. He sniffled and pushed the book aside, and he whispered, “Lay down with me, darling.” 

Luca smiled and settled down next to Timothée, and Timothée was quick to settle his head on Luca’s chest. Luca’s firm arm wrapped around Timothée’s shoulders, and he gently kissed Timothée’s head. “How was your day?” Timothée asked. 

“Long,” Luca whispered. 

Timothée hummed, and he sat up and kissed Luca’s cheek. “My busy man,” he cooed, and he pulled off Luca’s jacket. “You must be so tired, working all day in that hot sun. And I know that you're just so stressed out; you should try to relax.” 

Luca smiled at Timothée’s efforts, and he said, “Are you trying to seduce me, bambino?” 

“What would be the harm in that?” Timothée asked. “I miss you, Luc.”

“Mr. Hammer isn’t satisfying?” Luca asked, and Timothée chuckled. 

“I wouldn't know, darling,” Timothée told him, and he carefully pulled a leg over Luca's waist and kissed his forehead. “Armie’s never fucked me. He tried, but… I’m sure that you’re better. Guys like Armie, they like to flaunt their body, but the only thing that matters is how you put your body to use.” 

Luca smiled, and he pulled Timothée down to kiss him. The taste of Luca was familiar and comforting, and Timothée sighed contently as Luca's hands fell to his waist and grasped his hips. 

The whole thing felt wrong. It was easy, because of how many times they had done it before, and it was full of passion, panting and quivering and open-mouth kisses, but Timothée knew that it was a goodbye. He knew that Luca knew this too, and he closed his eyes and let every emotion hit him. His Luca, the man he thought he would spend his life with, was saying goodbye. Timothée held his tears in, but a whimper passed through his lips. Luca lifted his head up out of Timothée’s neck and locked eyes with him, and Timothée let his tears fall when he saw that Luca’s eyes were wet. Timothée softly touched Luca’s cheek, his lips falling open for him to claim, and Timothée whispered, “I love you, Luca. I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too,” Luca whispered. “I have never loved anyone more than you.” 

The duo was silent once it was over, and Timothée quietly wiped himself clean with a corner of the bedsheet, and he carefully got dressed. “Luca—” he started. 

“Don't,” Luca whispered. “I have a perfect memory of our last moments. I want to keep it that way.” 

Timothée nodded, and he worked the ring off of his finger and carefully pushed it into Luca’s palm. “You’ll find him one day,” Timothée whispered. “I swear, you will.” 

The air was cold as Timothée walked out of Luca’s apartment, and he immediately crossed to the apartment building that he and Armie stayed in. He bypassed his own apartment, however, and he sent a few careful knocks to the locked door. It took a few moments, but the door eventually opened to show Armie, dressed only in workout shorts and tennis shoes. He had no shirt on, allowing Timothée to see his whole torso, slick with sweat and pulled tight with muscles. His chest hair was laden with sweat, as was his forehead, and Timothée had an urge to lick up every drop of sweat from his body. “Oh, hey,” Armie said breathlessly. “Just finished working out. Wanna come in?” 

Timothée nodded and scurried into the apartment, and he settled on the edge of the bed. Armie swiped a wrinkled t-shirt from next to Timothée and buried his face in it, and he unlatched the window to allow some cooler air into the apartment. “How’re you?” Armie asked, and he shook the shirt out and laid it across the windowsill. 

“Fine,” Timothée said. “I, uh… Broke up with Luca.” 

“Yeah?” Armie asked. “I’d kiss you, but I’m covered in sweat.” 

Timothée giggled and bounded over to Armie, and he threw his arms around his neck and crashed their lips together. Armie kissed back, taking fistfuls of Timothée’s shirt, and he backed him up until his knees buckled at the bed and he fell onto his back. Timothée crawled further up the bed and Armie followed, settling his chest in-between Timothée’s thighs. He kissed Timothée’s flat belly, earning him a giggle, and he moved up and kissed Timothée’s mouth again. 

“How—” Timothée began, and he moaned softly when Armie took a hold of him through his jeans. He lost his train of thought as Armie began to palm him firmly and kiss his neck, and he finally regained some rational thought when he said, “How’d it go with Liz?” 

Armie broke away from Timothée’s neck, and he said, “I didn’t do it. I pussied out. I’m not sure I’m ever gonna be able to break up with her.”

Timothée tilted his head slightly as he examined an ultra-sweaty Armie, and he said, “I want you to fuck me. Now.” 

“Yeah?” Armie asked. “You ready?” 

“Yeah,” Timothée whispered, and his hand slid behind his back and into his back pocket. “But I wanna record it. So I can look back on it when filming ends and remember how you were the best fuck I’ve ever had.” 

That excited Armie to no end. He didn't even have to think before he was agreeing to it. He set his phone up on the nightstand so that it saw mostly him— per Timothée’s request— and he stripped Timothée naked quickly after it started recording. He went back to kissing Timothée’s neck and palming him, drawing soft, breathy moans from him, and he was hard in no time. Timothée could never forget the sight of Armie pulling off his shorts to expose his shining skin to the moonlight, and the musky scent of sweat pervaded the air. Neither cared, and Armie only pushed Timothée’s thighs open and began to kiss the flesh. Timothée truly was a tiny thing, probably barely 100 pounds soaking wet, but Armie adored every inch that was available to him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Armie saw the sight on the phone screen, and he saw Timothée's legs splayed open and his head buried deep in-between his thighs. It was an erotic sight for sure, and Armie looked up at Timothée through his eyelashes to see Timothée's lips puffy and covered in spit, his eyes gazing down at Armie. “You just gonna sit there?” Timothée asked softly. 

“Of course not,” Armie replied, and he kissed Timothée’s thighs again. “Just lookin’ at how pretty you are. You’re gorgeous, baby.” 

“Thanks, Arms,” Timothée smiled. “Kiss me, please.” 

Armie moved up the small boy’s body and kissed his mouth, eagerly licking and sucking on his tongue. Timothée was quiet as he moaned, his fingers curling tight in Armie’s hair, and Armie rocked his hips down onto Timothée's. The boy squeaked softly, and his cheeks filled with pink. “Fuck, Armie,” he whispered. “Please, God, hurry.” 

“Patience is such a virtue, baby boy,” Armie whispered, and he gently kissed Timothée’s neck. 

“Fuck that,” Timothée laughed, and he locked his legs around Armie’s waist and hauled him onto his back. Armie gasped in surprise, and he admired the sight of Timothée's skin in the moonlight. He was truly the most beautiful creature Armie had ever seen, and it took his breath away. “Got any lube?” Timothée giggled. 

“You laugh…” Armie began, but he stretched to reach the bedside table and he extracted a small bottle of oil from the drawer. “It’s not lube exactly, but it’ll work perfectly.” 

“Great,” Timothée grinned. Armie opened the vial and poured a few drops into Timothée's palms, and the boy moved down and began to slowly rub Armie’s hard cock. Whether it was an act of teasing or something else, Armie didn’t care; Timothée was jerking him off, and that was a dream for him. Timothée kissed Armie’s sweaty, hairy thighs and moaned softly, and he licked up his erection and began to suckle at the swollen and leaking tip. That was enough to make Armie cuss rather loudly, and Timothée pulled off of him with an obscene pop of his lips. “Ready?” Timothée whispered. 

“If you are,” Armie laughed. “You sure you can take me?” 

“No time like the present to find out,” Timothée giggled, and Armie grasped him by the shoulders and changed their position once more so he was back on top. 

“Wait just a second, babe,” Armie whispered. “Gotta prep your little hole.” 

“Armie,” Timothée whined. “Fuck, please, no prep. Just— You, now.” 

“Baby, I’m telling you, you need prep,” Armie said. “Just a few fingers, just a few minutes more, okay? I just wanna make sure I won’t hurt you.” 

“You won’t,” Timothée said forcefully. “Just fuck me, Armie, please.” 

Armie sighed and looked down at Timothée, and he saw the boy’s legs shaking with anticipation. He really needed this. “Alright,” Armie said. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll go ahead and start, but I won’t stop until you say your safeword. You can beg me to stop all you want, but I won’t until you say your safeword.” 

“What’s my safeword?” Timothée asked. 

“It’s a light system,” Armie began. His hand fell in-between Timothée’s legs and he began to massage the pad of his thumb against Timothée’s little hole. He felt the ring of muscle spasm at the feeling of his finger, and a small moan fell from Timothée's lips. “Green means go; yellow means slow down; red means stop. I’ll do whatever you tell me to, in regards to the light system. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Timothée mumbled. 

“You ready?” Armie asked, and he grasped Timothée’s legs and opened them wide, wide enough for him to fit in-between. Timothée nodded and took a deep breath, and Armie took a selfish moment to admire Timothée. He was shaking all over, sweaty and panting, his cock flushed against his belly and leaking. He was such a bottom. Armie grinned when he pushed in just the tip, just enough for Timothée to feel the burn and stretch, and Timothée gasped. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, Armie.” 

“I told you that you needed prep,” Armie chuckled. “But you were a brat and wouldn't listen to me. This is your punishment, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Timothée whispered. 

Armie nodded, and he continued to push in. He felt Timothée’s elevated heartbeat in his soft walls, wrapping perfectly around him and squeezing him, almost milking him to hurry and come. Timothée’s little whore mouth was open and he was moaning breathlessly, and Armie remembered the open window just as his balls hit Timothée’s ass. “Good boy,” Armie nodded. “Such a good boy, taking Daddy’s cock. Color?” 

“Green,” Timothée whispered. He took a handful of Armie’s hair and tugged him down to meet his lips, and he whispered, “Fuck me, Elio.”

_____

Timothée was all cuddled up next to Armie, hanging onto his arm and sleeping soundly. Armie had his earbuds in, so he wouldn’t disturb his sleeping beauty, and he kept rewinding the video to watch the best part over and over again. Timothée’s back arched and he gave a high-pitched cry, and his cock began to empty out on his chest and stomach. His eyes were squeezed shut, his hands in fists, his hair stuck to his forehead. He was gorgeous. Armie was the luckiest bastard alive. Well, he would be when Timothée was all his and he was all Timothée’s. 

Timothée huffed out a breath as he slept, and his eyes stuck closed as they tried to flutter open. “Arms?” He asked raspily, and Armie pulled out his earbuds. 

“Hey, bub,” Armie said and ruffled Timothée’s hair. “How’re you feeling?” 

Timothée yawned. “Tired,” he mumbled. “Belly hurts.” 

“Aw,” Armie cooed. “Does the baby have a tummy ache?” 

Timmy nodded, and he curled closer into Armie’s chest. He wore Armie’s shirt with no underwear of any kind, and Armie was still naked; Timmy only put on any clothing because it was Armie’s sweaty shirt and he wanted to smell like his daddy. “Wha’ ‘ou watching?” He mumbled. 

“Just a video,” Armie said. “Of a pretty baby boy. You wanna watch?” 

Timmy shook his head, and he pushed his thumb into his mouth. “No, no, baby,” Armie whispered. “That’s bad for your teeth. You want your paci?” 

Timmy shook his head again, and he scooted his head into Armie’s armpit and buried his little face in the hair. “You like it in there?” Armie chuckled, and Timmy nodded. “Isn’t it stinky?” 

“No,” Timmy said, his voice muffled. “Smells like Papa.” 

“Okay,” Armie smiled. 

“Wha’re ‘ou gonna do ‘bout Liz?” Timmy yawned. 

“I don’t know,” Armie mumbled. “I don’t even know how to begin to tell her that I slept with someone else. She’ll go ballistic.” 

Timmy hummed softly, and he asked, “Can ‘ou send me the video from wast night? Wanna have it.” 

Armie’s eyes widened. That was it. “Sure,” he mumbled, and quickly shot an email to Timothée that included the large video file. Then, he made a new email and attached the video, but he put a few words in the body: you were so hot, babe. can’t wait until next time. xo daddy

In the address bar, he carefully began to type, and he hit the auto fill: Liz Chambers-Hammer. 

Send.


End file.
